Mr. Harland could not understand it at all. He remembered the girl as she stood that morning in her shabby gown, with the little lace kerchief knotted round her throat, and her small, pale face and grave eyes. The young creature that stood before him was as slim and graceful as a fawn. She was no longer pale. Her eyes were clear and sparkling, her black dress was enlivened by a dainty breast-knot of dark crimson roses. Could these few weeks have effected this transformation? "No, I should not have known you," he said, dropping her hand; but he looked very kindly at her.
Frank had been much amused at this little scene; but by and by his mood changed. He was even guilty of the unfilial wish that his father had been detained longer at Lincoln's Inn.
Frank found he could no longer secure Miss Ramsay's attention. She evinced a preference for monsieur's society, and could not be induced to leave his side, even to see the hot-houses under Frank's guidance.
Frank turned rather sulky at last, to his father's amusement. Mr. Harland's eyes twinkled mischievously as he watched his discomfiture.
"Miss Ramsay," he said, "you are very good to stop with an old fellow like me, but I must not monopolize you. Mr. Frank seems a little put out with us both."
"He is only pretending," she said, in a voice that reached the young man. "I think it is his way of making fun—it is so long since I have seen you, monsieur. And I like better to sit and talk to you of Dinan, and those days when you were kind to me. As for Mr. Frank, I shall see him often—often." Mr. Harland glanced at her in extreme surprise; he noticed that Frank turned his head to listen. "He is coming to teach me tennis," went on Annette, in a composed, matter-of-fact tone. "I would not play to-day, because I knew I should only make myself ridiculous; but I understand the game now; and Lottie and I will practice; when Mr. Frank comes he will be surprised at my progress."
"Father, shall I bring you and Miss Ramsay some tea out there?" asked Frank suddenly at this moment. Now, what had become of the young man's brief moodiness? Frank was humming an air as he brought out the teacups: he had a little joke for Annette when she thanked him for his trouble; but he shook his head when she would have made room for him.
"Don't disturb yourself," he said, quickly; "I know you and monsieur"—with a little stress on the word—"are as happy as possible. I am going to talk to Averil about the tennis, and see which day I may come."
"Very well," she returned, tranquilly; and she resumed her conversation. She was telling her friend about her life at Redfern House, about the new work-room, and her cousin's kindness. As she talked on in her bright, rapid way, Mr. Harland told himself that she was not far from being pretty; she was not so thin, and her complexion had improved, and the spirituelle expression of the dark eyes was very attractive.
Meanwhile, Averil was listening to Frank's plans with rather a puzzled look. Frank had announced his intention of coming down to Redfern House as often as possible to practice tennis with the girls.